


Kowareta Ningyō Mo Egao De

by CityofJade



Series: 10000 Hours [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse, Bullying, F/M, Psychological Manipulation, Rough Draft, Sexual Harassment, Work In Progress, abuse in the work place, physical harassment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 18:04:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10541709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CityofJade/pseuds/CityofJade
Summary: “I think you’re prettier with your hair down.” He declares one day, another ribbon, this one the color of the sky, sliding out of her hair. A rough hand runs through the locks, the strands catching on his fingers. “It’s so long and beautiful, it’s not being appreciated when it’s tied up.”Mechanical smiles, words she doesn’t mean. “Thank you. I would leave it down if I could, but it’s just not practical.”“That’s too bad.” He says. She hopes that she is imagining the warning in his voice. She knows she is not.Kiyo gives them a strange look, a concerned look.But she is a doll, her painted smile is permanent.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Donovan Reed- 24 years old. Dyed blonde/gold hair. Brown eyes. Dresses young and slightly rumpled. Just barely taller than the twins. The manager’s nephew. In school for business. Introduces himself as Van to make himself look cooler. Everyone just calls him Donny
> 
> Kevin Scott- 40 years. Dark, thinning hair. Glasses. Small in stature, a little heavy. A good manager, can be too kind sometimes. He turns them away initially but they are persistent and he gives them a chance. They prove to be his hardest workers. When Tatsuyo drops out of school to work full time he is upset.
> 
> Delilah- 22 years old. An American writer. Simply needed something to pay the bills until her writing could earn her an actual paycheck. Works in the back. The twins teach her Japanese and she helps them polish their English during shifts. 
> 
> Alec McCoy- 26 years old. Very tall, well built, quiet. Doesn’t speak, wears headphones most of the time. Tatsuyo can sometimes hear Mozart when he’s near. Is a good, obedient worker. Mr.Scott is of the impression that he could be much more if he wanted. But he prefers a simple life and that’s ok. 
> 
> Kiyo- 19 years old. A cashier who likes to hang around in the back and chat when she’s off duty. She’s taking a gap year to save for college. Very bubbly and bright. Asian. Born and raised American. 
> 
> Zeke Langley- 23 years old. Supporting his sisters until they graduate, working towards a degree very slowly. 
> 
> Ashlynn Curtis- 22 years. Leaves to start a family. Blonde, kind, mostly in her office. Secretary. 
> 
> Tatsuyo and Tatsuya work whenever they are needed in whatever area they are needed in. One day they could be in the back, the next they’re restocking shelves, then they’re working checkout. They are both well liked and are the youngest members of the team. Tatsuyo works full time, Tatsuya comes in after school. Miyuki, their younger sister, studies in the back room. Tatsuyo and Tatsuya are Japanese American twins working to support themselves and their younger sister. Tatsuyo has dropped out of school to support her brother's education against his wishes. Miyuki is an illegal immigrant who lost her legal status sometime after their parents were killed in an accident.

“Tatsuyo!” Donovan calls, “I have to make a couple deliveries. Feel like coming?”  
She smiles at him, trying to appear regretful. “I can’t, this needs to get done before I break for lunch.” She says, waving at a trolley of cans in need of relocation. She’s not actually supposed to do any heavy lifting, but what Tatsuya doesn’t know won’t hurt him.  
He looks disappointed but smiles nevertheless. “I’ll hold you to it.” He runs a hand through his hair, earnest as a puppy. “Maybe we can still eat lunch together?”  
Her smile is painful. “Of course!”  
He fist pumps, probably trying to be funny, and she waves and hurries away. Donovan is nice, but she doesn’t have the energy to deal with him. He has too many questions, too little tact.  
__  
He runs into her several times a day. He usually catches her with an arm around her stomach or a hand on her wrist, there was one embarrassing occasion when the hand was decidedly lower, but they don’t talk about that. They didn’t even acknowledge it when it happened.  
It’s always her who runs into him for some reason. She’s never been klutzy, but the occasions are slowly climbing into the double digits. Once a week is quickly turning into once a day and she has a permanent sore spot from where he keeps catching her by the wrist.  
It’s almost routine now. She trips, he catches her, she apologizes, he laughs, they move on.  
She can’t figure it out. Doesn’t even know if there’s a plausible reason, or if it’s just coincidence. She’s tired and overworked and he’s always around. Maybe it’s just the way it happens.  
___  
She loses her gloves and digs her mother’s out of a box in a closet. It hurts to smell her scent, to see the pretty things she used to wear daily.  
Next, her scarf is gone. She wanders around for an hour looking for it before giving up. She knits a new one on her next lunch break. Donovan watches and she pretends not to mind. She doesn’t know why he’s so interested. As soon as she’s finished it’s gone too. She doesn’t bother making another.  
Her chapstick vanishes into thin air, nothing else in her purse is gone so she must have dropped it. Her house key is found on the ground in front of her locker. The keychain, a lucky cat, is nowhere to be found. Next, it’s a pack of gum, her last, then, a paperback novel she had been reading on the train. She scolds and berates herself. She can’t afford to be forgetful, especially when money is so tight. These things, small as they are, cannot be replaced.  
___  
She bounces impatiently as she stares at the clock, willing the hands to move faster. She’s been at the cash register since 8 o’clock with a too tight ponytail and she can’t take it anymore. Her break is in 30 minutes, as soon as the hand hits 12 she can leave, probably for the bathroom but anywhere is fine. As long as she can fix her hair and massage her aching follicles without looking improper.  
An impatient man in a charcoal gray suit clears his throat and she realizes she’s been distracted for too long. “Sorry!” She says brightly. “I was a little lost! How are you today?”  
He gives her an appraising look before turning back to his phone, not even bothering to answer.  
Her smile tightens. She hates customers like this.  
He only has three items. A newspaper, an apple, and a pack of gum. The apple has to be entered manually. He scowls at her the whole time and she feels like she’s melting into the ground. It’s not my fault. She wants to say. Just the way things work. But it’s not her job to be liked, just to get things done.  
She’s handing back his card it happens. A stream of hot air on the back of her exposed neck, raising every hair on her body. The ribbon in her hair, sunshine yellow to lift her mood, slips away and her hair, finally free, cascades from its bonds. The relief is instant, she would cry if she wasn’t so cold.  
The man glares, snatching back his card with disgust. “Go back to your country.” He snaps and stalks off. Usually, she would be hurt or angry or both. Today she isn’t. Today she is cold.  
Somehow, she knows who it is even before she turns around. Donovan with his cheery grin and smiling eyes. “Hey!” He chirps. “I thought you looked uncomfortable. Thought I’d help!’  
“Thank you.” She says. “Though you probably shouldn’t have done that while I was serving a customer.”  
His eyes flash, his grin spreads. “Sorry. Wasn’t thinking.”  
Her smile is tight, so tight she feels like she might shatter. She is a porcelain doll, cold and fragile and helpless.  
“Hey, while you’re here would you mind covering for me for a moment? I’ve been dying to go to the bathroom.” Smile. She thinks. You are a doll.  
His smile turns quizzical, confused. “Sure.” He says, opens his mouth to say more, but she doesn’t wait. She is simply gone. Walking as fast as her aching feet can carry her until her aching heart is somewhere she can shatter.  
He never gives back the ribbon. She doesn’t dare ask.  
___  
“Tell the manager!” Miyuki says, eyes icy blue and angry. “He has no right to touch you and invade your personal space! He has to be punished!”  
“Talk to him,” Tatsuya says, cool and logical. “He may not realize that he’s crossing a line. We would hate to drag Kevin-senpai into this, especially if it’s just a misunderstanding.”  
“It was just a one-time thing.” She says to both of them. “It won’t happen again.”  
It does.  
___  
“Woops! There you go again!” Donovan says. His hand is too low, the other too high. Her face burns, her ears ring, there was nothing in her path to trip on.  
“Gotta start being more careful!” He says cheerily, his hands sliding away too slow. “One of these days you’re going to take us to the ground!” His words carry a promise.  
She bows to hide her tears, whispers a sorry, a thank you. She almost runs into Alec and her heart stops when she realizes he saw what happened. She apologizes again in her broken voice, a doll with a string.  
Sorry.  
Thank You.  
Sorry.  
Thank You.  
___  
Mr. Scott wants to see her. When she walks in Donovan is lounging in the corner. He smiles at her, slow and lazy. She looks away.  
Mr. Scott clears his throat, gives a pointed look at his nephew, who straightens up. “I received a complaint,” he says, grave as death, “from someone who claims to have seen you, tripping Tatsuyo.”  
Her breath catches, hope flutters in her lungs. It dies a beat later.  
“Oh,” Donovan says, “no, Tatsuyo is just a little clumsy sometimes. I just happen to be the one to catches her most of the time.” His expression changes, like dark clouds washing over a sky of blue. “Wait, she’s not in trouble, is she? She’s a good worker, she’s never broken anything before! It doesn’t affect her work, I promise!” He’s so earnest, so sincere, even she almost falls for it.  
Mr. Scott sits back, relieved. “No, no.” He says, waving a hand. His watch flashes in the light, a beacon, a sign. “I just have to investigate any possible harassment.”  
Donovan laughs. “Don’t worry. Tatsuyo’s not harassing me. I’m just glad I always seem to be there to catch her.” Mr. Scott joins in on his laughter, she giggles weakly when they look at her.  
“Alright.” He says. “I’m glad we cleared that up. Keep working hard you two. I appreciate it.”  
On her way out of the room the chair moves of its own accord, her foot catches the leg and she goes sprawling across the floor. Or, she would have.  
Donovan holds her wrist in a vice grip. “There we go again!” He says brightly, dark eyes boring holes into her own. “So clumsy.”  
She is a doll. He is her collector.  
___  
“I think you’re prettier with your hair down.” He declares one day, another ribbon, this one the color of the sky, sliding out of her hair. A rough hand runs through the locks, the strands catching on his fingers. “It’s so long and beautiful, it’s not being appreciated when it’s tied up.”  
Mechanical smiles, words she doesn’t mean. “Thank you. I would leave it down if I could, but it’s just not practical.”  
“That’s too bad.” He says. She hopes that she is imagining the warning in his voice. She knows she is not.  
Kiyo gives them a strange look, a concerned look.  
But she is a doll, her painted smile is permanent.  
___  
At home she dreams that she is falling, faces rushing past in the never ending darkness. Impact is there all too soon.  
It’s a shame. Donovan says over her broken body. She was just so clumsy.  
She wakes with tears streaming down her face, ragged cries stifled in her throat. Miyuki stirs sleepily beside her, Tatsuya breathes, calm and even, above them. Their uniforms hang on the door. The clock ticks, ticks, ticks.  
The doll is too close to the edge, soon, she will fall.  
Soon, she will shatter.  
Soon, she will be gone.  
___  
She stares into the mirror after her siblings have left. Take me with you. She wants to say. Don’t make me go back there. But they are working just as hard as she is.  
Her eyes are too big, her face is too pale. Her lips are too pink.  
It’s her fault, for being a doll.  
___  
Mr. Scott wants to see her again. She sits, pale and silent, still just a doll on a shelf.  
“Tatsuyo, is everything ok at home?” He asks, looking up over his glasses at her. An appraiser. “Donovan says you haven’t been bringing lunches. He’s worried.”  
“I’m fine. Just been busy. I’ll start bringing them again tomorrow.” It’s a perfect answer. A safe answer. “Sorry for causing you trouble.”  
“Are you sure?”  
Her smile is brilliant. She should know, she’s the one who painted it in the mirror.  
“Positive.”  
___  
“Are you ok Tatsuyo?” Asks Delilah during their lesson. “You seem kinda. . . what’s the word? When you’re . . . uh. . . you know. . .” She trails off, says something in English. “Buranku? Is that the word? Blank?”  
Tatsuya gives her an odd look. In broken English, he tries to clarify, “Blank, like, a paper with no words?”  
“Yeah!” Delilah exclaims. “Like the lights are on but no one’s there.”  
“The lights are on, but no is there?”  
“Yeah, it’s an English idiom.”  
“An idiom?”  
“Yeah, it’s when- Agh! That’s not the point.” She says, frustrated. “The point is that Tatsuyo doesn’t seem like herself.”  
Tatsuya looks at her with a dawning realization. “You have been acting strangely.” He says. “I didn’t notice until now.”  
She is cornered, caught. Donovan is an aisle away. He could hear.  
“Tired.” She lies. “Tsukareta.”  
“Oh,” Delilah says. Accepting, trusting. “Ok then.”  
Tatsuya says nothing. He only looks at her, long after she has turned away.  
___  
Sunday is a day of rest, of peace. Nothing has to be done unless it needs to be. She can sleep, she can dream, she can pretend she doesn’t exist.  
Miyuki and Tatsuya speak in hushed tones in the kitchen.  
“She has been working very hard,” Miyuki says, delicate hands twisting with worry. “Do you think she’s doing too much?”  
Tatsuya frowns, he stares out the window. He says nothing.  
“Maybe. . . maybe she regrets leaving school? She looks sad when we study, maybe she misses school.”  
“No.” He says, his blue eyes are stormy, thoughtful. “She looks sad all the time. And she does miss school, but she doesn’t regret her decision.”  
Miyuki is put upon. “How do you know?” She asks.  
“Because while she is working, we are being taken care of. That makes her happy. She could never regret that.”

**Author's Note:**

> These are small scenes from a much bigger story. A lot of them are simply outlines. I just want somewhere nice to put them while I work.


End file.
